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Let me explain: "My Woman" comes from the same studio as Moe, Larry, and Curly, and what they have in common is minimal production values-- though less effort was, of course, put into Three Stooges shorts than into feature films, even one as tossed-off (and poorly titled) as this one.

According to Wikipedia: "During the 1930s, the eight majors averaged a total of 358 feature film releases a year." That's about one movie from each studio every eight days. "My Woman" was from Columbia, which wasn't even a major in the 30's, so they had even fewer resources, and it shows in their products, which were cranked out like jelly beans.

Among the victims of Hollywood's factories was the star of this film, Helen Twelvetrees, a cute and competent platinum blonde from Brooklyn. She made 33 movies in her brief 10-year career, and none were much more famous than this one. She died, aged 49, a suicide.

The plot is so ordinary it hardly bears revealing-- wife helps husband with radio career, husband gets famous and insufferable, wife has to choose between him and lusting producer. Roughly.

There was only one scene I really enjoyed, an extended comic riff about half an hour in. The omnipresent character actor Charles Lane (350 screen credits!) brings a batch of clients to audition for some very bored radio executives. One audition is worse than the next, but the most preposterous by far is a young (39 at the time) Walter Brennan as a stuttering actor whose act is animal noises. Reeaallly lousy animal noises, which cannot be easy to perform. He's halfway through his South American fauna when he's yanked. "You're off the air old man," the stage hand says when he takes the mike. "Nerts to you," stutters Brennan.

He's the only character I wanted more of.

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